Defiant
by KezzaG
Summary: Tobias' transfer from Abnegation to Dauntless is a difficult one. He's been beaten, but not broken. He hopes. This is the story of Tobias as he becomes Four, from his POV. Two years before Divergent begins. Rated T because it's Divergent.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Tomorrow**

* * *

Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

I tell myself over and over again — I only have one more day of this. Tomorrow, I can escape.

Finally, I sit up in bed, wincing. The fresh bruises on the backs of my thighs are starting to blossom and the pain is barely bearable when I'm sitting upright. Getting through school today will be a feat. I take a deep, cleansing breath and count: _One, two, three, four_. Alright, I can do this.

When I'm dressed and have my schoolbooks in hand, I shuffle quietly out of my room and down the stairs. Maybe he won't hear me leaving.

"Tobias!" I turn towards the kitchen, where my father sits at the table with two bowls of oatmeal.

"Yes, Father?" I come down the last two stairs and steal a look at the front door. I got so close today.

"Come sit and enjoy breakfast with me, will you?" he says in his quiet, steady voice. I know it is not a question, but a threat. I do have to live here for another full day, after all.

I don't meet my father's eyes, but I can feel them boring into me. I set my schoolbooks on the seat next to mine, my mother's old seat and begin eating my food in silence.

My mother, each morning, would take my schoolbooks and chat idly with me about my favorite subjects while I ate my oatmeal. My father would glare at her, but it was my favorite part of the day. I haven't enjoyed that in nine years. I know she's in a better, safer, calmer place, but I can't help wishing each day that she was alive and home with me. He was easier to face somehow when she was here.

I have two more bites left when he says, "Have you been thinking about Choosing Day, Tobias?"

My fingers tighten over my spoon and it starts to shake on its way to my mouth.

"Do you have any big plans?" His voice is low and even as always.

I cower slightly under his gaze. "No, Father."

"Good." He seems to relax. "I wouldn't want you doing anything rash. As much as I've tried to rid you of it, you still seem to have a rebellious streak." I look up at him, anger washing over me. "It will be the death of you."

A chill runs over me. I grab my books and sprint for the front door. Once I'm outside, I'm safe. Saf_er_. I take a moment on the front stoop. _One_, _two_, _three_, _four_. Now. Now I can face the day.

The gray wool of my trousers rubs my thighs as I walk, reminding me of my bruises, reminding me why I'm leaving.

* * *

After finishing Computing Technologies is lunch. Then, I'll take my aptitude test. I have no idea what it entails — no one does — but it can't be worse than what I've already faced in my life.

I didn't pack my lunch last night, so I sit in silence with the other Abnegation kids, watching while they eat.

Of course, each of them offers me a bit of their lunch, some offer me their entire lunch. I politely refuse and fold my hands on my lap. I don't think I could eat right now anyway. I have too much nervous energy coursing through me. Which faction will I be aligned with? I close my eyes and chant to myself, _Not Abnegation, not Abnegation_. Obviously, I don't _have_ to choose the faction I'm aligned with, but it makes it all the more difficult to get through initiation.

When I open my eyes, a tall, dark-haired Erudite boy with glasses and a bowtie is walking by the table, staring at me. He has a sneer across his face.

"Worried you're not going to make it back into Abnegation, Stiff?" he laughs and moves on. I shiver, but remind myself: He is not as bad as Father.

* * *

"Tobias Eaton," the tall Amity woman calls.

I wring my hands and stand up. I count my steps as I approach her. _One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four_. She smiles at me kindly and holds the door open for me, something I'm not used to. I duck my head and walk through into the testing room.

Each wall is covered with mirrors, something I haven't seen in years. My father doesn't believe I should be tempted to focus inwardly more than I already do, so he just removed the mirrors from our house entirely when I was 12. There were only two to begin with.

I've aged. I barely recognize myself — I move my hand, though, and so does my reflection. It has to be me. For the first time, I can see the patchy beard I've been growing for the last year or so out of necessity. I look like a man almost. I was a _boy_ when I last saw myself.

But my father is right, the world cannot see any marks on my body.

"My name is Frances. If you'll have a seat, Mr. Eaton, we can begin." She puts her hand on my shoulder. I flinch and can't stop myself before groaning in pain.

In Abnegation we rarely touch each other. It makes you too aware of yourself when you're meant to focus on those around you. Father doesn't pay much heed to that, though.

The deep cuts I got two weeks ago from on my shoulders are still healing. It's the reason I haven't been carrying my book bag.

"Are you alright, Mr. Eaton?" She sounds genuinely concerned.

I plaster on my smile that I've been taught to imitate from the other Abnegation kids. It makes people uncomfortable to see a sad child. "I'm fine, Frances, thank you for asking. How are you?"

She scrutinizes me for a moment then indicates the chair again. It looks like a dentist's chair, a chair I'm not particularly fond of.

I walk over and sit gingerly on the chair, being careful not to let my pain show in my face again. I don't need people finding out now, just when I'm almost out.

"If you'll just swing your legs in, there, that's good. Now, drink this." She hands me a glass of what looks like water, but I have my doubts. I drink it unquestioningly. _You mustn't be too curious or it will be the death of you_, my father's words ring in my ears.

I hand her back the glass and she smiles. I look up at the brightly lit ceiling and feel my eyelids slide closed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Tests**

* * *

When I open my eyes again, I'm standing in the school cafeteria, alone. On the lunch table directly in front of me is a brick of cheese. Next to it is a huge, menacing knife.

"Choose." I hear the boom of Frances' voice all around me, as if I'm only hearing the echo in a large cavern, not her actual voice.

Immediately, my hand flies to the knife. The cheese disappears.

I hear the dog before I see it. I whirl around and face a huge, snarling dog. I clutch the knife in my hand, and begin to back away. "Good dog," I mutter. The dog advances on me slowly. He is staring at my knife. I hide it behind my back and the dog stops. Curious.

I reach my hand out, palm up, and let the dog sniff it, careful not to flinch or move too suddenly. After what seems like an eternity, the dog licks my hand gently.

* * *

I blink and suddenly I'm back in the testing room.

"Well, uh, Mr. Eaton," Frances seems incredibly nervous. "Please, uh, excuse me, one moment, please, uh..." She gets up and nearly sprints to the door.

I sit up slowly, my head swimming.

I look at my reflection again. I look immensely tired. More tired than any other kids in my year at school. There are bags under my eyes and my cheeks seem almost hollow under my sad excuse for a beard. Curiosity gets the better of me and I unbutton the top few buttons of my shirt, stealing glances at the door as I peel it back to expose my collarbone.

I can see the bruises already.

I undo another button and slide my shirt off my left shoulder. The cut _is_ deep and it doesn't seem to be healing too well. Father had said that he had gotten carried away. It was always his intention to leave no permanent marks on my body. That's why he had to do it so often, so I'd always have a reminder to reel in my disobedience.

I hear footsteps at the door and rush to button myself back up. The door opens and a tall Abnegation woman comes in, just before I've finished. Maybe she didn't see. I finish my last button and meet her eyes as she holds the door for Frances. It's Natalie Prior.

The concern in her face tells me she did see.

"I just didn't know what to do, Natalie," Frances sounds panicked, scared. Natalie faces her again and any sign she might have seen my bruises disappears from her face. Maybe I imagined it.

"You did the right thing getting me, Frances," Natalie says in a soft, calming voice. She smiles gently and Frances seems to relax. "You probably just hit something with your elbow while running the test. Don't worry. It's only your first year administering the test. I won't tell anyone if you don't."

Frances smiles gratefully at Natalie and practically skips out of the room. Natalie closes the door behind her and waits a moment before turning around to face me.

"Tobias, listen to me carefully."

Oh, no. I've hidden it for my whole life. I've hidden my shame for sixteen years and on the last day I screw it all up because of a _mirror_?

"Please, please, don't tell anyone." I feel tears burning behind my eyelids. My voice is desperate.

Natalie looks at me, her brow furrowed, for a long moment.

"You already know?" Her voice is low. It reminds me of Father's.

Confusion washes over me. "Know what?"

She closes the gap between us in two swift, long strides. I've never seen an Abnegation woman move like that. I shrink back from her and raise my hands to cover my face.

She grabs my wrist and I gasp in pain. My most consistent bruises cover my arms. She stops suddenly. And looks at my arm then at my face. Tears are flowing now and I feel my face growing red. She loosens her grip on my wrist, surprised.

"What... What happened here, Tobias?"

I look away, hiding my face, hiding my pain.

She begins unbuttoning my cuff and I try to pull away. "Tobias," she says firmly and I stop resisting. It's inevitable now.

She rolls back my sleeve and I know what she sees. It's what I see every day. I even see it through my clothes while I'm at school, burned there in my mind. The welts raised along the length of each arm are my reminder to stay unnoticed. _It's for your own good, _my father always says. _This will keep you alive_.

"Please, please, don't tell anyone, Mrs. Prior," I mutter through my tears.

I look up at her and see complete shock painted over her face. _Did_ I imagine she saw before?

"Tobias, how did this," she stops. "This complicates matters." I watch as her face softens. "But let's focus on the more important thing for the moment. Tobias, do you know that you're different?"

I shake my head. What is she talking about?

"Tobias, listen to what I have to say." She lowers her voice to a whisper, "You are what is called Divergent. It means your test came back with an unexpected result. This is _very_ dangerous. People will try to hurt–" She looks down at my bruised arm, then at my tear-streaked face, and corrects herself, "To _kill_ you for this. Do you understand?"

I nod slowly.

"You have to do exactly as I say. I've deleted the data from your test, which shows that you could be Abnegation or Dauntless. That's important. You can pick either one." Her eyes dig into me. I nod. "I'm going to give you the test again. Take the knife and when the dog comes, I want you to immediately run away. Don't think, just do.

"Then you will run down the hallway and there will be a small child. The dog will still be chasing you, but I want you to stop when you see her. You'll then launch yourself at the dog and the simulation will end. Do you think you can do that?"

I nod, wiping the tears from my face.

"Good. That will give you an Abnegation result, which is what they'll expect."

I start to rebutton my cuff, to hide my arm from her again.

Sadness flashes over her face for a moment and it's immediately replaced with determination.

"Now lie back, drink this." She hands me another glass of clear liquid and I take it in my hand. I take a breath. _One, two, three, four_. I down the liquid in one long gulp and hand the glass to her, lying back on the chair.

I hear her voice just as my eyes close, "Be brave."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Lessons**

* * *

Author's Note:_ I want to make it abundantly clear to everyone that I had a very difficult time writing this chapter. I believe this will be the last time we really see Marcus for quite some time (he will be appearing in Tobias' fear landscape soon enough), so don't worry that it'll get worse from here. _This_ is the worst of it. That said, if you're squeamish, proceed through the second half of this chapter with caution._

_Also, I have two _Fifty Shades_ fics up (they are both rated M for Mature, so don't go looking for them unless you're 18+). They deal with bdsm in a safe, consensual relationship. There is NOTHING in common with the way that works and the beating of a child. Nothing. Do not get your head twisted and think this is arousing. Seriously._

_Thanks for reading, sorry for the obligatory author's note!_

* * *

I walk home from school, trying to clear my head. Trying to delay the moment I have to walk through the front door.

Dauntless. Why did it have to be Dauntless? Nothing about me is brave. I spend most of my time being terrified of my father or of people finding out the truth. Now I have another secret.

At least it's not Candor, right?

And I can't stand the Amity — they feel the need to touch all the time. I've spent the last sixteen years of my life trying to avoid being touched at all costs. If I could stay in Abnegation, I would. They share my dislike of physical contact if not my abhorrence of it.

But if I'm being honest with myself, I guess I was hoping for Erudite. Father hates them. There'd be no chance he'd visit me there.

A shudder wracks my body at the thought and I stop walking. I close my eyes and count. _One two three four_. I open them and realize I'm not quite sure where I am — somewhere in the Factionless district. I look up at the street signs and realize I'm about three blocks out of the way. I was supposed to turn left a while ago. The streetlight above me buzzes on above me as I turn around to double-back the way I came. That's when I notice something isn't quite right.

There's nobody around.

No one.

There's no sounds of people talking, no children playing, no rumbling of engines. Nothing but the wind.

As much as it hurts my sore legs, I break into a run. I don't have a lot of muscle, my body is not used to running more than a few feet and I get winded after about a block and a half. I bend over and grab my knees, steadying myself. _One_. Exhale. _Two_. Inhale. _Three._ Exhale. _Four._

I stand up and regain my composure. Just another couple blocks and I'll be on my regular route again. Right before I get to the next corner, I hear the near-silent purr of an electric engine. Without thinking, I duck behind a large discarded refrigerator.

Six white cars with solar panels along the top round the corner just as I would have been crossing the street. I stare.

The Erudite never come to the Factionless districts. _Never_.

I watch silently as they whip around corners and park on patches of dirt and under bridges where I know lean-tos and shanty villages are. Then I hear the footsteps of more than a dozen large men and the screams. The screams of men and women and children. Making the sounds I make when I'm in my father's office. The sounds of terror. Utter terror.

I don't think, I just run. I run all the way home and don't look back.

When I make it to the Abnegation district, I run straight to the Meeting Place. I ignore the burning in my legs, in my arms, in my lungs, the pounding in my head and in my chest.

"Tobias?" It's Andrew Prior.

"Mr. Prior! You've got to..." I've completely run out of breath. "Please, the Erudite are — Factionless. Screaming." I fall to the floor and three people come over to help me. They're going to try to grab me. I wave them off.

"Someone has to help them," I say to him desperately.

He starts ordering people around him to gather information, to grab supplies, to get others to come. Then he leans down and offers me his hand. I gratefully accept it and he pulls me to my feet.

"I'd like to talk to you tomorrow morning, if that's alright, Tobias. Before the Choosing Ceremony," he says quietly into my ear.

He's still holding my hand and we're incredibly close. My skin should be crawling, I should be so uncomfortable, but I feel absolutely no threat from this man.

"If I can get away," I whisper hesitantly.

He pulls back and gives me a knowing look. "Come to my house, I'll be waiting. This is worth the risk, Tobias." His wife must have told him. She must have said something about my bruises. "I have to go now, Tobias. You did the right thing telling us."

I don't know if he means the bruises or the Erudite. I really don't know.

* * *

I drag myself to my house. The sun has almost set and all the houses glow with the light of dinner preparation, of happy families gathered round for supper. My house, identical to all the others, looks cold and dark in comparison.

_Maybe he's not home yet_, I think hopefully.

With my hand on the doorknob, I breathe slowly in and out, steeling myself.

Before I realize it, the door slips out of my fingers and my father is looming before me. "Tobias."

"Good evening, Father," I say as pleasantly as I can. He's always stressed upon me that it's important to act like everyone else even if you don't feel like everyone else. Even if you don't want to. Everyone else says "good evening."

"Please come inside now, Tobias. I was _worried_. Where have you been?" he asks as he closes the door.

And then it's just the two of us, no prying eyes. No witnesses.

"I... I walked home, sir," I mutter. I lower my gaze to my shoes.

"You know I don't like you walking alone, Tobias. You _know_ that." His voice hushes, more menacing. I feel my heart racing.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Why do you insist on defying me, Tobias? Are you trying to hurt me? Why do you think I give you these rules? It's for _your_ benefit, not mine. It's not safe out there."

_It's not safe in here._

"You're almost a man. You need to have self-discipline. I won't always be around to help you improve yourself." He holds out his hand.

I can't do this. I know it's just one more time, but I can't do this. I begin to shake.

"Come on. Give me your belt, Tobias."

Two years ago, I discovered an iron belt buckle under a floorboard in the closet in the shape of an eye. Around it was a note that read, _Tobias, be strong for us both_. It was my mother's handwriting. She had left me this buckle and I felt such a warmth, such love, that I couldn't not wear it.

Since my father discovered it last month, he has insisted on using _my_ belt when he thinks I've been particularly self-concerned. It's so much heavier and sharper than my father's belt buckle. It's what gave me the cuts on my shoulders two weeks ago.

I hesitate with my fingers at my waist.

"Couldn't we just," I start.

The back of his hand smacks hard against the center of my cheek and I see spots. I taste blood inside my mouth and know it's from biting the inside of my cheek — an injury no one will see.

"Now," he sighs.

I gasp to catch my breath. I fumble with my buckle, counting. _One two three four._ Slowly, I pull my belt from my pants with trembling hands. And hold it out to him. I feel the redness in my face heating up.

I turn and march up the stairs to the second floor, to the empty bedroom next to mine that has become my father's office. He follows close behind. When I reach the middle of the room, I kneel on the raw rice that's always there, feeling it dig into my shins through my thin wool pants.

"Tobias, tell me," he says, circling around me. "How did your aptitude test go?"

I shudder.

"We're not supposed to discuss it I thought," I stammer, but he slaps me hard with the leather end of the belt across my right shoulder, reopening the wound and making me cry out.

"Tell me, Tobias. How did your aptitude test go?" he says calmly.

My breath hitches and I swallow deeply. "I got Abnegation," I say.

"Is that the truth?" he mutters.

Technically, yes, it's the truth. It's what I got on my second test, it's what is recorded.

"Yes, Father," I whimper.

He's in front of me and I stupidly look up. He's scrutinizing my face, determining my fate.

"Good," he says. He bends so he's sitting on his heels. We're face-to-face now. I can't help flinching and looking away.

"And will you be choosing Abnegation tomorrow?"

I don't hesitate before nodding. "Yes, Father."

I feel his eyes on my face. He'll be able to tell I'm lying. Panic is not going to help me in this situation.

Finally, after what seems like forever, he stands. I close my eyes and exhale. _He believes me_.

And then he sighs.

My guts churn.

"I wish I could believe you, Tobias. I really do." I close my eyes and count. _One two three four. One two three four._

"Put your hands down, Tobias."

My breath catches, but slowly I reposition so I'm on all-fours. The rice buries itself deep into the fleshy parts of my palms and I hiss.

"They won't accept you in the other factions, Tobias, because you are broken." He pauses. "Count, Tobias."

The iron buckle whistles through the air and I feel the impact on my back, near the base of my spine. I know I scream because my throat feels raw, but I can't hear the sound. When I remember to breathe, I mutter weakly, "One."

"Abnegation is the only place you can stay safe," he says.

The belt flies through the air again and hits me at the small of my back. My vision goes a little fuzzy.

"Two," I say.

"I can look out for you here," he says as I feel the buckle hit me in the middle of my back. My arms buckle and my face hits the floor.

I push myself back up after a moment. Rice falls from my face.

"Three."

"I can keep you safe."

The final blow hits between my shoulder blades and I close my eyes. _One. Two. Three._

"Four."

We are both breathless. He comes around to face me again, coming down to my level.

"Now, Tobias, can you tell me the truth this time?" He lifts my chin and I meet his eyes. "Are you going to choose Abnegation?"

My back is bleeding and I can feel all my fear and hatred of this man oozing from my wounds. I know this will scar. I know this is his last chance to hurt me. I feel my hand balling into a fist.

"No," I say and before I can think about what I'm doing, I throw my handful of rice into his eyes and push him over. I run to the staircase and stumble, nearly falling down the whole flight. I manage to grab the railing after three or four steps and right myself, but now he's at the top of the stairs, I've lost my lead. I all but fall down the stairs and lunge for the door.

I don't even manage to turn the knob before he grabs me by my shirt collar, and pulls me off my feet, the back of my head slamming into the hardwood floor with a sickening crack.

Everything goes black for a moment. I hear my father above me as he kicks me over onto my stomach, "Well, if I can't be around to remind you of the dangers, this will have to be one hell of a lesson."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Escape**

* * *

I don't sleep. I can't sleep in the closet. I never have.

Adrenaline races through me, panic tightens my chest. I feel like I can't breathe and all I can do is count over and over again.

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

I'm pretty sure I've been here several hours, but I just don't know.

The closet smells like my father. His coats are kept in here, along with his shoes and his winter gear. Mine are all in a box in my room, ready to be donated, but his live here permanently. The smell makes me nauseous.

Our closet is smaller than most because of the bookcases he keeps in here. I'm pretty sure he keeps them hidden so no one finds out he reads them — volumes on computer technology, on military strategy, on Faction History. They're all pretty standard books. The shocking thing about them is just how many he has. There are 214 books on the shelves. I know because I counted them a few times. It's too dark to read, but I can feel them. I can feel them against my shoulder blades and my hips and my toes.

_One, two, three, four. _

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

_One, two, three, four._

I can't sit in the closet. I can't see in the closet. I can barely hear in the closet. I can't sleep in the closet. Pretty much all I can do is cry and smell and stand and count and panic.

It _must_ have been a few hours. It _must_.

I risk turning the doorknob. It turns, but the door only opens about two inches before the chain stops me. He's locked me in for the night. Great.

I scrounge around until I find the refrigerator magnet I stashed behind the fifteenth book from the left on the third shelf. I hold it up to the door at the level of the lock and slide it slowly away from the door jamb. It's a delicate process and carries with it the potential of being caught. I can't imagine the beating I would get. I probably wouldn't survive it.

I barely survived the one I got tonight. Every movement shoots pain down my limbs and through my spine.

Finally, I hear the lock clatter against the outside of the door as it swings.

I push the door open experimentally, checking down the hallway.

I creep out of the closet and decide to just work on getting out of the house. Stopping to grab anything is far to dangerous. I know my shirt is ripped, but right now I'm more concerned with escape than I am about hiding our secret.

I take off my shoes and glue myself to the walls as I tiptoe down the stairs. I make it to the bottom and glance at the kitchen clock. 4:15a.m. It's still dark out. Good.

And then I'm outside. I'm free. I never, ever will set foot in this house again.

The relief that washes over me is unbelievable. I take a quick moment to breathe.

_One, two, three, four._

I run across the street to the Prior house and knock quietly on the door. They're not likely to be awake, but since Natalie and Andrew are the only ones I know, that means they're the only ones I can trust.

"Please, please. Be awake," I urge the door.

After what feels like an eternity, the door flies open and I'm pulled inside by my upper arm. My shoulder wound protests and I scream out as Mr. Prior closes the door behind me. His eyes are wide with shock and concern.

"Good god, what happened?" he whispers, leading me to the kitchen.

"I fought back," I murmur. "I shouldn't have fought back."

He calls for his wife, who comes down the stairs a moment later still in her nightgown. I remember my mother had the same one.

"Can you try to clean him up, Natalie? I think he needs stitches, I'm going to get my first aid kit. Get him one of my clean shirts. And he'll probably fit Caleb's shoes. Give him the new ones, they're bigger."

They help me to my feet and then she leads me to the upstairs bathroom. Quietly we ascend the stairs then turn right. The first bedroom, the same as mine, is a boys' room — Caleb. I remember him from my Faction History class last semester. He was the only advanced placement Abnegation in the class. He was a sweet kid.

His mother popped into his room to grab the shoes. While I'm waiting, I take a couple steps farther down the hall. The closet on the right under the stairs gives me a shiver. I open the door, but it seems so spacious, not nearly as claustrophobic as our own. It smells like winter.

The door across the hall stands ajar. I close the closet and inch toward it. This is the same room as my father's office — my torture chamber. I peek inside, terrified.

There's a girl sleeping. She glows silver in the moonlight and I feel myself drawn into the room. I pad softly inside and stand at the foot of her bed. She seems so peaceful. This must be what it's like to sleep without fear. Without pain. I'm completely mesmerized.

"Tobias?" I hear Natalie call from the hallway.

The girls stirs and sits up in bed, rubbing her eyes. She stares right at me and I stare right on back. I feel a warmth pass over me like a soft blanket.

We hold each other's gaze for a long moment until her mother touches me softly on my elbow, drawing my attention. She leads me out of the room and I steal one more glance before she shuts the door saying, "Go back to sleep, Beatrice."

* * *

After Andrew finishes my stitches, he leads me upstairs to the living room downstairs. His wife brings us all some black tea and we sip quietly for a few minutes before he speaks.

"Tobias, I want you to know we are here for you and I'm so sorry we didn't see the signs sooner. I should have known. Marcus has always been cruel."

My brows furrow.

"That's not why you asked me here, is it, Mr. Prior? To give me your sympathies?"

"No, Tobias. I wanted to talk to you about your Divergence," he says.

He exchanges a glance with his wife.

She continues, "Normally, we recommend that anyone we find who is divergent choose Abnegation because it's the safest. We're not particularly curious and many Divergent people live here without problem." They smile sadly at me. "But your situation," she hesitates. "Your situation with your father makes this a dangerous place for you to remain as well."

I nod into my teacup, tears stinging my eyes.

He speaks again. "You align with both Abnegation and Dauntless. I think you know that Dauntless has the most dangerous initiation process."

I hadn't really thought about it that hard, but I suppose it makes sense.

"If you choose to go to Dauntless, they'll administer a number of simulations over the course of your initiation similar to the aptitude test you took yesterday," he says. "It is _critical_ that you keep your head about you. Think about what the expected response would be and do that. Don't do anything that alters the world of the simulation. If you do, they will likely kill you."

I gulp. Staying in Abnegation is starting to sound appealing. Almost.

"Whether you choose to stay in Abnegation or not, though," Natalie says. "We will make sure Marcus stands trial."

"No," I blurt out. They stare at me. "No one can know."

"But Tobias," she starts.

"No. I know he's key to the government. If it ever came out what he's done, the entire faction would be held responsible. It's better if I just leave. Then he can't do it again and it doesn't matter anymore." I shudder. "What's done is done."


End file.
